


she's on the loose

by Anonymous



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 00:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: sofia falcone takes the city by storm.  they don't know she's coming until it's too late.





	she's on the loose

**Author's Note:**

> title and ending lyrics taken from "on the loose" by niall horan  
> "ring of fire" by johnny cash used in the opening stanza. lera lynn's cover was the inspiration
> 
> enjoy

Like all things, Sofia applies her makeup with careful calculation.  
  
Gentle sweeps of mascara.  Precise glide of eyeliner, the edges sharp, pointed.  Soft puffs of powder across her cheeks, a gothic contour.  
  
She has a date tonight.  
  
Digging through her collection of lipstick, she's careful not to mar her dark red nails, expertly painted.  She mouths along to the croon of Lera Lynn in the background, an old tune that reminds her of growing up with Mario, but with a warm, seductive purr that rolls off her lips like second nature.  
  
_Love is a burning thing_

She settles on dark lipstick, as deep as her nails, and applies it flawlessly to her lush lips.  
  
_And it makes a fiery ring_

When she's done, she flashes her sultry reflection a smile, the kind she'll turn on Jim tonight, the kind that makes him unable to look away from her.  
  
She's ready.  
  
All the while, Lera's throaty growl surrounds her like an inferno.  
  
_Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire_

-  
  
Sofia laughs, places her hand on Jim's shoulder as she recalls a trivial (fake) event of the day.  
  
Jim can't stop staring at her lips.  
  
So she leans in close, lets him have a taste.  
  
-  
  
Jim is that good boy with an edge: old comforts with a biting aftertaste.  
  
He's your favorite pair of shoes, worn but comfortable.  A smoky whiskey, goes down easy.    
  
She likes that about him.  
  
But what she likes more is the way his pupils dilate when she brushes her lips to his jaw and whispers, How about you show me a good time?  
  
The good boy leaves, and a man that holds her down and fucks like beast replaces him.  He doesn't even bother taking off her dress - white, the color of innocence, so he can feel like he's corrupting her.  
  
If only he knew.  
  
She comes twice, kisses his cheek.  
  
Her lipstick stain is still on his skin when she leaves.  
  
-  
  
For Oswald, she dresses in black with flashes of color.  
  
She's in a skintight black dress when she meets him for dinner.  His eyes go right to her powder blue scarf, delicate and luxurious.  
  
Oswald is like Jim, more than he may think, but the inverse.  The mobster boy who yearns to be good.  The rough and tumble man who is lured in by the temptation of something soft and sweet.  
  
Sofia gently traces her nails down his cheek, a soft scrape filling the air between them, and watches his eyes flutter.  
  
When she smiles at him, she thinks his eyes go a bit wet around the edges.  
  
-  
  
Sofia doesn't take Oswald to bed that night.  Just holds him close, lets him feel her heart beating.  
  
Such a good boy.  
  
She whispers this against his hair.  He can't see the way her smile twists when he whimpers.  
  
This is all so easy.  
  
-  
  
Her spiderweb grows and grows.  She spends her time with Jim, encouraging him to take more, more, more as his fellow comrades desert him.  She spends her time with Oswald, bringing him closer and closer while his kingdom burns in the background.  
  
And when neither are looking, she makes her moves on the chessboard of Gotham City.  
  
Check.  
  
-  
  
Oswald's mind is far away after their dinner.  He's thinking of a big, bad riddle man who's done a number on him.  
  
She sashays up to his side, keeps her face soft and gentle, the unassuming, wide-eyed savior with good intentions.  
  
"Oswald," she purrs, runs a hand down his chest, presses her concealed strap-on against his hip.  "Let me make it better."  
  
-  
  
It isn't the riddle man's name Oswald is screaming by the end of the night.  
  
-  
  
She takes a shower when she returns home in middle of the night, washes away the perfume of sex and leather.  
  
She uses Jim's favorite body wash, the one with a hint of honeysuckle, and hums a deep tune.  
  
-

Jim has a ghost of his own in those dark alleyways, a woman with long dark hair and darker eyes.  Jim must have a type.

“I'm here, baby,” she whispers against his lips.

After he fucks her against the wall, he tucks his face in her neck and tells her she's amazing and everything he needs.

“You're the only one,” she tells him, fingers dancing across the back of his neck.

It almost sounds true.

-

But it isn't.

Because two days later she's at Oswald’s side, trying on silly pairs of sunglasses just to get him to laugh.

That night, when she has three fingers up his ass and he's wriggling on them hard, she promises him, “I'm the luckiest girl in the world to get you like this. I'm yours.”

Oswald mouths ‘mine’ when he comes untouched.

-

Sofia Falcone is her own, and only her own.

-

At night, with the sharp cologne of both men on her collar, she counts the bullets in her bedside table and makes her next move.

-

They come begging for her like dogs. It’s almost pathetic.

Oswald on his knees, sucking her strap-on while she digs the heel of her stiletto against his back. She watches him work, keeps him in line.

Jim between her legs, licking her out and making her moan. She lets her head fall back, thighs squeezing his head to keep him right where she wants him.

Her toys are so good to her.  But even favored toys must be discarded when the time is right.

Until then, she soaks in the pleasure like the queen she was born to be.

-

There's chaos in the city. The news declares the Penguin’s losing his grip on the city and the GCPD is nowhere in sight.

Sofia runs herself a bubble bath, sipping champagne from an expensive flute. She thinks of Mario, of her dying father, of her faded last name.  She thinks of herself, of the ladders she's climbed and the bloody, bejeweled crown she's about to wear.

Her perfectly painted red lips pull into a smile as she takes another elegant sip.

Checkmate.

 

_So get out while you can_  
_You don't understand_  
_She doesn't know how to lose_


End file.
